


Gonna Make You Bend and Break

by alwaysamy



Category: White Collar
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-27
Updated: 2012-11-27
Packaged: 2017-11-19 16:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysamy/pseuds/alwaysamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An evening at home with Peter and Neal is exactly what El wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gonna Make You Bend and Break

**Author's Note:**

> Crappy title courtesy of Fall Out Boy.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been out, hon.” Peter’s frowning, moments away from folding his arms over his chest like a little boy. He’s adorable when he’s confused. “Are you sure you don’t want to try that new Thai place on Tenth? We could--” 

El sinks back into the sofa and smiles at him. “I told you, babe. I want to stay in.” 

Peter shrugs, and flops on the couch next to her. “Okay. But don’t say I didn’t offer to treat you to a fantastic evening.” 

He smells good, warm and spicy, and she rubs her knee against his, the thrill of what she wants already burning low and steady inside. “I won’t. Where’s your phone?” 

He pulls it out of his pocket. “Here, why?” 

She looks up at him from under her lashes, and lifts her leg to drape it over his, sliding her bare foot along his calf slowly. “Call Neal.” 

***

“I see we’re skipping the wine, cheese, and pretense.” 

El looks up from the magazine she’s leafing through to see Neal propped against the bedroom door, hat tilted down over one eye, in a white shirt unbuttoned at the throat and slim gray trousers. He looks like a Rat Pack fantasy of class and sex appeal, and for a minute she wishes Peter were beside him, earthy and rugged in his green t-shirt and jeans. 

Yin and yang, she thinks, and smiles. The best part is, for her anyway, they contrast just as well naked. 

“Peter can bring some wine up if you’re going to be a stickler,” she says tartly, and sits up. The loose navy nightshirt she put on when she came upstairs slips down over one shoulder, and she leaves it there while Neal looks. His appreciation always feels tangible, as silky as his hand will in a little while. 

“I think I’m good.” His grin is the slow burn that melts marks from twenty paces, but she doesn’t mind, and she laughs when he takes his hat off and tosses it neatly onto the easy chair in the corner. 

“Need some music, slick?” Peter says as he walks in, a bottle of water in one hand and his phone in the other. “Maybe a pole?” 

“I don’t want to keep the lady waiting,” Neal counters, and El claps politely. 

“Good answer. Get those jeans off, mister,” she tells Peter, who rolls his eyes and leans over to kiss her forehead as he deposits his phone on the bedside table. 

Neal snorts delicately and strips his shirt off, laying it over the back of the chair while he steps out of his shoes. “The lady knows what she wants, Peter.” 

“You could have lit a candle at least,” Peter grumbles, but he’s already taking off his clothes. 

El scoots back on the bed, making room as they climb up on either side of her, and it’s hard to hide her relieved sigh. It’s been a couple weeks since the last time, and even if she was a little startled in the beginning to realize how much she wants this, how comfortable and natural it seems, she doesn’t doubt it anymore. 

And she doesn’t question how often she seems to need it now, watching the two of them bat at each other in a whole new way before they turn their considerable powers of attention on her. 

“I’ll make you both a candlelight dinner tomorrow,” she murmurs, and strokes the smooth muscle of Peter’s back as he leans over her to bite at Neal’s mouth. 

“Tell me what you want,” Neal says, tilting his head back as Peter licks the hollow of his throat. 

“Who?” Peter says, and glances over his shoulder to smirk at El. 

“El, make him behave.” Neal’s tone is sliding dangerously close to a whine, but he loves it when Peter bites at his shoulders. 

“I think you should fuck him,” she says, and reaches between Neal’s legs where his cock is already mostly hard, as long and elegant as the rest of him. “While he fucks me.” 

Peter’s groan is muffled against Neal’s collarbone, but it’s not a protest. Neal shudders and his voice has dropped to a purr when he opens his eyes and says, “I think I love you, Elizabeth Burke.” 

“I know you do,” she says, and pulls Peter away from Neal. She holds out her arms and he strips off her nightshirt smoothly before he settles between her legs, lowering himself onto her slowly. 

“Hey there, beautiful.” He kisses her just as slowly, licking into her mouth gently, exploring, and she pushes up against him, impatient. She can hear Neal rummaging in the bedside drawer, and she closes her eyes and groans when Peter moves down her throat and chest to take one nipple between his teeth. 

“God, you’re such a biter,” she breathes, wriggling as he licks away the sting. His only answer is to suck, drawing it hard against his tongue, and each pull flashes through her, bright heat. 

By the time Neal climbs up behind Peter, El is squirming. She’s slippery wet already, aching, and digging her fingers into Peter’s hips to try and bring him closer. But when he lays his head on her shoulder, going still, she runs a hand over his head instead. Neal’s there, spreading him open, blue eyes hot and focused as he runs a careful finger around Peter’s hole. 

He was surprised to find that Peter liked to be fucked, but El isn’t. She and Peter figured it out a long time ago, one day when she picked up her vibrator and decided to tease him with it. Neal is always a little more skittish about it, at least until he comes, and El wishes he understood that this is the one place he doesn’t always have to be in control. 

Especially because he looks so good with his head cradled in her lap and his legs folded up while Peter rocks into him, hands braced on the back of Neal’s thighs. 

She shudders, picturing it, and kisses the top of Peter’s head. He was so worried in the beginning, so shocked that she would give him this. He still doesn’t understand that it’s as much for her and Neal, too, but sometimes she thinks he’s getting closer. 

“There you go, just relax,” Neal is murmuring, and Peter grunts, his hips shifting as he fucks back on Neal’s fingers. “Feel that? Feel good?” 

The sound Peter makes then tears from his throat, half groan, half whine, and his fingers tighten around El’s arm. “Oh, I think he feels it,” she tells Neal, looking at him over Peter’s head. “Don’t you, babe?” 

“Nnnngh,” is all she gets in answer, and Neal grins. 

“Come here, babe, come up here,” El whispers, and Peter moves, propping up on one elbow so she can reach his cock. He’s half hard, but the head’s slick and hot, and it only takes a minute of her hand around it to make him rigid. 

“Go on,” Neal says, and El spreads her legs wider as Peter lines up and pushes inside. And oh god, that’s good, big and hard and filling her up just right as he touches home. He’s sweating now, and the smell of him is all over her, warm and ripe and dark. She bucks up into his next thrust, clutching at him inside. 

“You good?” Neal says, and for a minute El can’t think what he means -- she’s better than good, she’s excellent -- but then Peter nods and shifts his hips, going still again, buried deep. 

She can feel it when Neal pushes inside him -- it’s in the way he shudders, suddenly biting at her collarbone, the rough grunt as Neal goes deeper, the added weight as Peter’s pushed farther inside her. 

This is what she wanted -- all three of them, together, no case, no criminal, no con, just partners, all of them equal in this one thing. She lets the muscles in her cunt ripple around Peter’s cock, and opens her eyes when he grunts, ragged and half laughing. 

“You play dirty,” he manages, and above him Neal grins, bright and wide, his hair falling over his forehead, his cheeks flushed with heat. El reaches around to slide her hand down Peter’s back, and Neal grabs it, twines their fingers together. 

“Come on,” Neal says, and drags his tongue along Peter’s shoulders and nape. “El’s close, aren’t you, El?” 

She is, she realizes, and the knowledge flares deep, spiraling out and climbing up the back of her thighs so fast, it’s breathtaking. “Peter,” she breathes, and pushes her hips up, reaching for it as he bears down, grunting. 

“Fuck,” Neal says, “fuck fuck fuck,” and then he’s speeding up, all rhythm gone. 

In the end, it’s a close thing, not that it matters. El goes first, and she’s still in the shuddering whiteout of pleasure when she feels Peter spilling inside her, the familiar “oh” that escapes when it starts. He’s panting, his slick forehead on her shoulder, when Neal’s fingers tighten almost painfully around El’s, and she opens her eyes to see his face go slack, blissed out as he fucks through his orgasm. 

For a moment after that, there’s only silence. Well, silence and the muted hush of their breathing, and beyond the closed door Satchmo’s pathetic whine. 

“I love you both,” El says finally, “but please get off me now.” 

Neal lets go of her hand and Peter arches as Neal strokes his back, slow and steady while he pulls out. He climbs off the bed to take the condom into the bathroom, and Peter raises his head and kisses El before he slides out and rolls over. 

“Fuck,” he says distinctly, and they can hear Neal laugh. 

“I think that sums it up,” he says when he comes back to the bedroom, crawling into bed on El’s other side and kissing her shoulder gently. 

El smiles, and ruffles his hair fondly, and strokes Peter’s calf with her foot. 

It doesn’t sum it up, not really. It’s so much more than fucking. For now, though, it’s okay if El’s the only one who knows that. Her guys will learn. They always do.


End file.
